


Random Quatre Thoughts

by Yesacia



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Drug Use, Lonely Quatre, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesacia/pseuds/Yesacia
Summary: Thoughts of Quatre Post-War





	Random Quatre Thoughts

He found himself, more often than not, with very little free time. He always spent it organizing himself for even more work, or catching up on sleep. Sometimes, he found himself with twenty or so minutes of free time that he was awake enough for, but after calling his friends there was only ten minutes left, and they couldn't make it in time before his next appointment, or it was at an inconvenient time, so he found himself, more often than not, alone. He liked to surround himself with books about group adventures, and trinkets that reminded him of people he cared deeply about. It only made him feel more alone, and before he knew it he was running out of space for his music boxes, his antique chess sets, the tea cups from around the Earth and mingled in colonies. It was no problem to build another building to display his collections, and having someone else hired by the company to move them made it a breeze, but the lack of them made him feel like something was missing, and he felt more alone than ever before.

He's not sure if the loneliness is what made Trowa Barton look so good as he walked in to the office. He green eyes reminded him of the vast forests he now only read about, and the warmth of his words were maybe made sweeter because of the long silences he often sat through, sweeter than the scratching of a pen and flipping of pages, at any rate. He wasn't sure how it happened, but before he knew it he was setting up appointments to be with Trowa. Trowa's name fell from his lips so easily and with a nostalgia that made his heart flutter, and before he knew it his adventure books had been set aside, and forgotten, and replaced with books about damsels in distress and intense romantic thrillers, and he often found himself picturing himself and Trowa in the story. Soon his office was turned upside down, remodeled to fit Trowa, and he'd casually point to the taller shelves and Trowa would fetch it for him. Trowa found himself at home in a big blue arm chair in the corner, watching. He liked the attention. He bought him gifts and fancy dinners, special deliveries to his work, and when he found himself waiting for Trowa one night at dinner, and Trowa mentioned something about him being so friendly lately, more so than usual. Something about him running out of space for the flowers at work and something else about the food always delivered to work, how Trowa felt it was a bit much. He didn't see a problem, but he felt maybe Trowa was getting upset, and Quatre was scared. Scared he'd leave and he'd be alone in that office again. He yelled about Trowa being ungrateful and cruel, he said a lot of things that he regrets today. It wasn't until he had muttered his name that he stopped. Who was Quatre? Quatre was familiar. In his eagerness to not be alone he'd found himself so focused on Trowa, he had forgotten who Quatre was. He had forgotten himself. He wasn't sure why Trowa left. He was left numb, unawares, so drunk off of Trowa's company he didn't realize everything he had said until a week later.

Alone again in the office he found himself staring longingly at the empty blue chair in the corner. He cursed as he dragged a chair over to a high shelf and missed Trowa even more. He threw away all of his romance novels and sold the blue chair. He's not sure why he started the pills, but they made everything go away for a while. They made Him go away. That's who Trowa had become. Some nameless painful entity. He found himself thinking about Him during his breaks, and soon his work started to decline, and people worried. He didn't see them though. He just saw an empty office, except for That Corner. He tried his best not to see that. He found himself seeing things others couldn't. Strange new 'friends' that came with the new pills. 'Friends' he didn't want to go away. He wasn't sure how many he had taken before his 'friends' disappeared. Everything melted away. The desk, his papers, the carpet. Everything was gone, except the darkness. The loneliness.

When he woke up he wasn't sure where he was, but big violet eyes met his with a frantic voice. Something about a hospital. Overdose, they say said. Big violet eyes told him that they were scared, scared of being alone. He told them he was too. He cried what felt like an ocean, and his whole body hurt, down to the core of his soul. His veins felt like they were on fire. He told the story about Him to the big violet eyes, and they asked if he loved Him. Quatre thought on that for a long time, until he shook his head. Quatre didn't think so. The big violet eyes wrapped their warm arms around him, and long brown bangs tickled his neck as they buried themselves into his shoulder. Quatre remembered this hug, this hug came from Duo a long time ago. When Duo had his own story, his own Him. When Duo had the cuts up his arms and scratches all over his body. When Duo tried his best to destroy himself. Quatre remembered fondly the times he and Duo had been together. They were like brothers, and Duo had been his rock, and Duo had been this strong unshakable thing. He had a lot of respect for Duo. When Duo broke down, he found himself thinking about a lot of things, and he wondered now if Duo thought about those same things now that the roles were reversed.

He wasn't sure what rehab would entail, and today even he looks to his pills and wonders if he took them again, would his 'friends' come back? When he felt lonely, he eyed them. When he stared too long at That Corner, he felt his hand moving towards the drawer where he kept them. He wondered how bad could one more time be? On a day he spent too long thinking about Him, he found himself opening the drawer. As he held the bottle in his hand, he stared at the small note attached to the bottle, and reached for his phone with his other hand, dialing the number scratched on the note as if with some rushed urgency he felt a prick in the back of his eyes and a stinging as tears started to form and the letters blurred but he could still read;

If you need a friend, call me instead.

Stay strong.

Duo


End file.
